


Coping Mechanisms

by Inquisitive_Moth



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley projects on his houseplants, Gen, Sad Crowley (Good Omens), i planned for this to be funny/silly and then... the angst happened, the angst came out of completely nowhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 07:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inquisitive_Moth/pseuds/Inquisitive_Moth
Summary: Crowley-centric. Crowley muses on his past and lets go of some pent up anger byprojecting on his houseplantsbullying his houseplants. Contains hints of Crowley's past before his fall as the archangel Raphael.





	Coping Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> I have finally done it, I posted my first fanfic. This work is rather short, and most likely filled with mistakes, but I tried my best. It is also in dire need of a beta (though, as I've never posted before, I'm not sure how that would work).
> 
> The footnotes weren't cooperating at first, but I fixed them!

Crowley enters his apartment, absent-mindedly snapping his fingers to turn on the lights and lock the door behind him [1] . He hurries towards the nearest surface that one could reasonably rest on—a large sofa located in his lounge—and drapes himself over it, then brings his hands to massage his temples and tries to let go of some of the tension in his body.

The past day has taken Crowley by surprise, in the worst kinds of ways. A simple assignment turned into a spectacular failure. It had been his fault, really. He found out the man he was meant to tempt would end up robbing a hospital—a hospital!—and, well... Something within him, something ancient that he tries to forget, cried out at the prospect of an endangered place of healing. 

Crowley groans into his hands. He is a useless demon. He is lucky that Downstairs never pays much attention to the stories he feeds them.

Now, he is tired and yet restless, and all kinds of thoughts are aimlessly flowing through his head. He knows he can't keep taking risks, can't keep doing things downstairs disapproves of. And yet, he can’t help it. Healing is what he used to do, a long time ago, before his purpose was stripped away from him because he asked too many questions. And, oh, it is quite ironic, that he was punished for asking why suffering and war had to happen by getting turned into a being responsible for these things. 

Crowley hates thinking about Before, hates thinking about his job, absolutely despises thinking about the fact that humanity is good at doing evil on its own, without influence on his part.

After finding out about his newest mission, he was calm at first. He thought he could just get it over with, like ripping off a plaster, and when he realized that he couldn't do it he decided to just skip the whole thing and make up a lie. Say that his evil wiles were thwarted[2] despite his efforts. 

Things didn’t go as he planned, however, when it turned out the human wasn’t really in need of demonic intervention. And, Crowley, fool that he is, had to actually go and try to stop the man from causing harm. The whole affair had been really nasty. Crowley had been appalled to see children getting shot in the process, and he couldn’t stop himself from causing a miraculous recovery from the gunshot wound. Now that would really get him into trouble if Hell ever found out about it.

And, oh, everybody in Hell can suck it. Crowley really doesn't see the point in rebelling against a stern authority, only to create a system that is a hundred times worse. Downstairs freaks him out on a good day. A disobedient angel fears demotion or being cast out. For a disobedient demon, that would be good news.

There used to be softer demons, in the early days. Demons who didn't mean to fall. Demons who didn't agree with hell's views. They're all gone, or, if they survived, nothing soft remains within them.

Crowley didn't pretend to be evil, in the beginning. He was not cruel. He didn’t care about defeating Heaven, like demons were supposed to. He only asked questions. He never meant any harm.

He couldn’t stay nice for long, however. Hell taught him fast that, if he wanted to make it, he had to play by their rules. He didn't broadcast his status as a fallen archangel as he didn't think his brother would appreciate it if he found out that he’s not the only one. He lay low, pretended and made up stories, and all the while he felt like he truly had no place where he fit —too disobedient for heaven, too nice for hell. Useless, unwanted.

But, from his first moments as a demon, he was indignant at having been cast out. He believed it to be unjust, that an archangel would be turned away just for doing what he had been created to do, for seeking to mend and to heal, for saying no one should suffer.

He was a healer before he fell. The Healer. It was in his nature to detest pain, to speak out against injustice. If She wanted him to be a nice and obedient angel, why had She made him this way?

Crowley groans. He really needs something to distract him from his thoughts, before he does something stupid such as seeking out the angel. Usually, he deals with his feelings by drinking, taking a century-long nap, or screaming at his plants. However, in his current state of mind, he doesn’t feel up to getting drunk, and going to sleep while the demons might still become suspicious about his recent shenanigans doesn’t sound wise, either. The houseplants it is.

Having made up his mind, he stands up and grabs his plant mister, then makes his way towards the plants in question. He puts on a scowl and glares at them, all the while he uses his demonic powers to make their leaves shake as if in terror[3] . 

He lets out all of his anger and frustration, and he insults them with words that he had previously used on himself. He calls them pathetic and incompetent and it all helps him a little, helps him let go of all the shame and bitterness that he keeps buried deep within. Just for a moment, he is the unfair boss and somebody else is the angel who is just trying his best, really, who didn’t mean to disobey, who only asked why couldn’t everybody just get along. Just now, he looks at them with the same kind of contempt that Hell showed him and any other demon who doesn’t go along with their plans. 

He grabs one of the plants and he tells it that it failed him, that it doesn’t get a second chance. He calls it vile and undeserving. Unforgivable, that’s what it is.

He takes it outside and he continues to put on a show, but he can’t really bring himself to destroy the plant. Instead, he miracles it somewhere else, to some garden far away, where it will undoubtedly be far happier than it was while under his care.

He walks back in with the empty flower pot and he threatens his plants some more until his chest feels lighter and he stops feeling as though he might just start crying any second now.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Crowley pities the poor soul who may try to break into his house. Nevertheless, he tries his best to do everything the human way.  
>  [ return to text ]
> 
> 2 Crowley isn’t quite sure what a “wile” is, or how one might “thwart” it, but he isn’t planning to admit to this any time soon. *****  
>  [ return to text ]
> 
> 3 Crowley could never torture an actual sentient being, but he fancies that, to a demonic observer, his act would pass as suitably wicked. It's also a great way to get rid of stress.  
>  [ return to text ]
> 
> \------  
>  ***** This particular headcanon is inspired by this lovely [tumblr thread](https://cosmic-romcom.tumblr.com/post/185586571601/send-me-your-sappy-heartbreaking-andor-silly)


End file.
